


The Marginal Truth of Magic

by shoyou100



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Italian Mafia, Magic-Users
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28038582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoyou100/pseuds/shoyou100
Summary: Rey was born into this world without it and she would die without it. Magic.The very thing which determined whether or not you mattered. And she expected to live a boring, overworked, magic-less life. Until the night she met another boy just like her by the name of Finn.A magic-less grunt from the La Cosa Nostra, New York Mafia.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

He blended into the night so well that Rey didn’t see him at first.

Tonight was like any other night Hell’s Kitchen, New York. Chilly with the remnants of winter and flanked by aging apartment buildings on either side, Rey ignored the usual stench of the alleyway as she kicked open the back door leading to it and hauled out two over-sized trash bags.

Take out the trash, do it in four five trips, go back to her apartment, and crash into bed to get up again at an ungodly hour to start the cycle again. Both her mind and body knew it well as a custodian with several years under her belt in the service of Unkar Plutt, the building’s residence manager. After all, her boss thought all ten floors of the apartment building could be cleaned and maintained by just two custodians. He was right of course. It could be done by two normal humans.

Except Rey wasn’t anywhere close to normal.

“To hell with this.” Rey bit out as she walked furtively towards the dumpster so as not to drip any of the contents down her jeans, arms straining under the weight of two greasy bags. Sweat broke out on her forehead though her unique three bun hairstyle effectively kept the rest of her hair out of the way.

What she wouldn’t give to have super strength right now. But she couldn’t.

Because she had no magic.

As far as Rey knew with what little the city’s education system for non-magical children taught her on the subject, magic was the reason why she had to work for Unkar Plutt. Magic was why she had such an unreasonable workload in a minimum wage job. Magic was also probably why her parents dropped her off at the nearest orphanage and disappeared forever from her life when she was only four years old.

“If only Anna can help.” Rey lamented aloud, refusing to go down the rabbit-hole of her unhappy past any further. She had dwelled long enough on everything, time and reality forcing her to come to terms with the fact that, in the end, she had to survive.

There was no point in hoping for Anna’s assistance. Her co-worker had long lost the capacity to do anything other than keep her age-old body moving. That was another factor in what reduced people to working for Unkar Plutt. Sometimes one didn’t have _enough_ magic. But Anna couldn’t help it. Nobody could outdo the weight of a long life. 

The trash had to be emptied out daily and it would have been a much easier task if Rey had been born with the ability to use magic. She could infuse power into her arms and legs and sprint to the dumpster with five or six loads at a time and finish in no more than two trips. But there was no point in complaining about the impossible. These bags of trash weren’t going to move themselves!

Rey had been on her third trip when she heard his voice for the first time.

“Help me.”

She spun so fast her feet slipped from the residue she left behind earlier. “Holy hell!” She gasped sharply before righting herself, and then, peering out into the dark, “Is someone there?”

“You’ve gotta help me.” With a desperate voice, a young black man suddenly stepped out of the shadows and Rey’s heart nearly leaped into her throat.

He didn’t look much older than her and was dressed all in black from his long sleeved shirt with a matching vest to his pants whose legs appeared a bit bulky with what looked like _shin guards_. He was dressed for battle, was the best way Rey could make sense of it, and he was also incredibly sweaty, as if he’d run a long way.

“What? Is… is someone after you?” Her voice hitching a note higher the only sign of how close she was to being seriously scared. Not necessarily _of_ him, but of what might’ve caused him to run so hard. The tone in his voice also sounded a beat too raw to be fake.

His eyes widened in genuine surprise. Maybe she hit the nail on the head.

“No. I mean yes! I mean- Agh!” He clenched his hands and bowed to collect himself. When he looked back up, he had such a strong hope in his eyes that made Rey almost a little embarrassed to witness.

She wasn’t used to seeing those kinds of expressions in people.

“I need a place to hide,” he said imploringly. Fear seemed to radiate off him in literal waves, his sweat evaporating into whorls of smoke in the cold night, but the look never left his eyes. 

Rey considered him then. Really considered him.

He was different from everyone else, that much was certain. Something made him different. But what?

What could possibly make this strangely dressed but otherwise completely normal boy any different from anyone else-

And that was when it clicked.

Rey felt _normal_ around him.

There were no pinpricks or tingles or shivers that came with being around everybody else. She was just her usual, empty self.

Her eyes could barely make out the dried up cut still crusted with blood on his brow threatening to swell his eye shut that she hadn’t noticed before.

The next question that immediately leapt to mind was, _Why hasn’t he healed himself yet?_

Once, Rey had gotten into a fight with one of the bullies that loved to terrorize the magic-less kids at the orphanage. He’d been an average sized boy who finally hit that age where he had learned how to be a bastard and both tall enough and experienced enough in magic to feel confident in acting the part.

After he’d shoved her so hard, yet coming off so casually because he’d reinforced his hands with magic, that she fell to the ground and Rey had sprung back up in a righteous fury, he’d _let_ her land the first punch.

At first, Rey had felt a surge of triumph as her fist made a resounding thud square in the center of his cheek. But, she should’ve known there was a catch because humans generally learned how to shield themselves at a young age so it should’ve been a warning in and of itself when the bully hadn’t. So, as the skin flushed and swelled from the impact, Rey suddenly found his fist bunched into the fabric of her shirt.

“Nice try.” He’d smirked and Rey was close enough to watch in a mix of horror and fascination as the imperfection of his skin slowly returned to its natural color and then smoothed out completely as if nothing ever happened. “Now it’s my turn.”

Back in the dirty alleyway of hell’s kitchen, Rey saw that the cut was still there, the strange feeling or lack thereof was still present, and that was when it all started making sense.

“You don’t have magic do you.” His visceral shock told her everything she needed to know. “That it. Isn’t it?” A tremendous bout of excitement flushed through her chest. “That’s why you couldn’t heal that wound above your eye!”

That seemed to snap him out of it. “Yes, well it still stings thank you very much.” He quipped. He hesitated afterwards, as if embarrassed that he said what he did.

But, for Rey, whatever tension between them had broken in that moment and, without another thought, she reached out to grasp him gently above the elbow.

“Come with me.”

* * *

The sense of danger tingled down his spine before he even entered the room.

The bodyguard stepped aside and Luca found himself gazing upon a sleek wooden door, freshly finished. The last door had been broken clean through by the previous squad leader’s body. Now Luca stood in his place as he was the next in command and sweat was already beading on his nose and forehead.

He nodded at the other man who nodded back, silently wishing him luck. He’d probably seen his fair share of flying men.

Luca forced himself to stand up a little straight, stepped towards the door, and willed as minutely as he dared a sliver of magic across his entire body. It would be almost impossible to detect while offering him the slightest bit of protection against what was to come.

He pushed the door open and gingerly stepped inside.

A large office desk commanded the room, a black leather chair just behind it.

The chair was empty.

Even more unnerved than he already was, Luca quickly scanned the room for someone. Anyone. 

He sensed the presence by the fireplace before he saw anything. Magic weighed down the air around the high-back chair angled towards the flames.

He stepped closer to the orange light.

“Ma’am, Sergeant Luca reporting. I have word on the grunt.”

Steely blue eyes pinned him down as he did his best to stare at her forehead.

Before him sat Phasma Bianchi, one of the greatest magic-users in the family, capo of both the Manhattan and Bronx boroughs. As far as history goes, she was the first woman to wear the rank and currently the only capo they had with the privilege of overseeing more than one borough, an incredibly daunting task in and of itself. Which would explain the severity with which she handled her subordinates, Luca thought.

Silence reigned for several heartbeats. Was she studying him? He didn’t dare lift a finger to wipe away the sweat that trailed down his temple.

“Go on.” Her voice struck him dumb for a moment. It was at odds with her harsh gaze, blanketed with an undertone that made him feel as if he wanted to tell her… well… anything she wanted to know.

“We tracked him down to the vicinity of central park. So far… he has not left Manhattan. We are close to-”

“The boy has no magic.” The words cut through his report like a knife through butter.

Luca met the capo’s eyes in that moment and the barely retrained fury there rocked him with a shudder.

“Are you telling me that some of my best Soldiers cannot track down a mere grunt and a magicless one at that?” The capo rose chose that moment to rise to her full height, a whole head taller than Luca. The weight of her magic pushed ever harder down on his body. “Choose your next words carefully, Sergeant Luca, for I will not tolerate incompetency for much longer.”

“Yes, ma’am, yes, yes.” Luca felt like he was babbling a little at that point. “We will double our efforts to find him.”

_Do not fail._

The words pierced his shielded mind, searing its clear threat into the synapses of his head, and Luca grit his teeth at the invasion. Any other magic user and Luca would’ve shrugged off their efforts. Hell, his own soldiers needed to put in some effort. But the woman before him hadn’t so much as blinked, her eyes drowning him in a merciless icy blue.

_Dead or alive, bring him to me.  
_

This time Luca could not suppress his shudder as he nodded deeply. And then he turned and all but burst out of the room.

Gods, the power of a capo!

* * *

“She’s getting mad…”

“What was that?” Rey was in the middle of throwing together her lunch when she heard her new roommate mutter something under his breath.

“That Bianchi woman I was talking to you about.” Finn, as he told her to call him, motioned her over to his perch by the single window in the small space that served as a sort of mix between a dining and living room that overlooked the street. “She’s increasing her search force.”

“Is she some sort of head honcho or something?” She joined him at the window. He had explained as much as he could in the past twenty-four hours or so, though Rey’s head was still spinning a little from the onslaught of information that had come out of him. And maybe a little from a lack of sleep since she’d stayed up late into the night listening to Finn’s story.

The mafia, _La Cosa Nostra_ as they refer to themselves… Rey couldn’t believe she was even thinking the words. There were a right handful of others too, names and terms Rey did her best to wrap her head around. Finn had come tumbling out of that world right into her cramped little apartment. That world had everything from soldiers to made men to grunts and captains. Hers had maybe thin walls? What on earth had she gotten herself into?

“Yeah you could say that…” He gestured to a random man walking on the street. “See that one? He’s one of them. You can’t tell just by looking though since there isn’t really a dress code unless w- _they_ go on mission at night.” The correction was immediate, but a grimace still crossed his face as he said it.

Poor Finn, was all Rey could think, though he looked much more ordinary now that he was wearing a matching shapeless, grey sweater Rey had on herself and pair of jeans that she had dug out of a cardboard box at the second-hand shop down the street. The sweaters had also come from a cardboard box. But at a different shop.

 _Options_ , Rey mused.

The rest of his gear and clothing was stuffed into the deepest part of her closet where she hoped no stranger would end up searching in the first place. 

“But I’ve been with these guys long enough that I can figure them out by how they walk.” He continued, gamely, and pointed to another man trailing not too far behind. “And because they usually go in pairs.”

The unbidden question rose of who Finn’s partner had been or if he even had one, but Rey had a feeling he wouldn’t be willing to answer that just yet. Besides, a grunt, according to Finn, was the lowest of the low in the ranks. There were soldiers and sergeants, all made men, which meant they were a part of the family, which was also just another way to say that they got paid for the work they did.

And then there were people like him, given all the basic necessities of food and shelter but with little to no autonomy of their own until they were eventually deigned worthy enough to become a made man. Who knew if grunts were even allowed partners?

“You’re welcome to stay here, Finn. As long as you need to.” Her voice came out very quiet, but sincere.

The air between them seemed to loosen as Finn slowly raised wide eyes to meet hers and it felt as if a held breath had finally been released.

Their moment of peace didn’t last long.

Loud thumps on the front door startled Rey into action, the wood straining on their hinges.

Rey had the closet door open before Finn was halfway across the room. “Coming!” She hollered back.

The front door opened to reveal a squat, fleshy man whose true age was lost somewhere between his folds. Unfortunately, he was still tall enough that he always used the opportunity to literally look down on her.

“Furnace needs fixin’. Get on it.” Her vile boss hissed.

If Plutt hadn’t been one of the only employers willing to hire her despite her disability, mostly for an excuse to underpay someone, Rey would’ve ended things right then and there and spat into his face.

“Wipe that look off ya face, girly.” He sneered. “You’re lucky I don’t throw ya out to rot.” He paused after that, as if to revel in her reaction, perhaps even waiting for Rey to finally snap so he could evict her like he had done so many others. She just knew his filthy heart probably relished that power he held over their heads.

When Rey kept her expression schooled to show as little disgust as possible, Plutt pursed his lips in what seemed like disappointment. Then he grabbed her door and was about to slam it shut when the most peculiar expression crossed his face.

He stopped midway. “You expectin’ company?” His beady little eyes had landed on the makeshift chair Finn set up at her small dining table.

Her stomach dropped out from inside. “That’s right.” She bluffed, her heart picking up though her face stayed relatively neutral. Or so she hoped. “What’s it matter to you?”

Was Plutt looking for Finn too? Why else would he suddenly care about visitors? It honestly wouldn’t surprise her if he was knee deep in dealings with the mafia.

Rey forced herself to breath normally as Plutt looked on.

“Watch ya tone, girl.” He finally said after what seemed like an eternity of scrutiny, though his eyes narrowed, whether in suspicion or anger Rey couldn’t tell. Probably a bit of both. “Or I’ll putcha on double duty.”

Rey wanted to bite off that she was already doing just that, but thought better of it.

“Yes, sir.” She forced out instead.

Plutt gave her one last nasty look before he slammed her own door in her face.

Rey waited a beat before she locked it behind him. Then she peered through the peephole. No one in sight.

She let out a sigh. “Finn, all clear. And before you ask, yes he does that every day. Sometimes I think he breaks things on purpose so he can give me stuff to do.”

“What a horrid man…” Finn huffed out as he extricated himself from the closet. “I’m sorry you have to deal with a boss like him.”

“Well I gotta get going.”

“Hey, Rey…” His serious tone made her look at him then. “You know he’s probably on their payroll right?”

Finn’s words only worsened the uneasiness that had bloomed in Rey’s stomach when Plutt had inquired about the chair.

“Maybe I should leave.”

“No! What are you talking about?” Rey blurted this out and had his hands between hers before she had a second thought. He looked so lost in that moment, though she wondered if that wasn’t just a projection of how she felt inside.

His hands were warm. His eyes were sad. And scared.

“They’ll kill you and then what?” She had to make him understand.

When was the last time someone had ever spoken with her into the night? When had she last shared a meal with someone, though her meager leftovers from last night probably didn’t really count? Who else understood what it was like to be born to look just like everyone else yet completely different at the same time?

He opened his mouth to reply and she didn't wait for him to answer. “I’ll be alone again. That’s what!” She finished with a lame joke, willing all of her sincerity into the expression she gave him now. “Aren’t you going to take responsibility?”

In a span of twenty four hours, Rey had found what she had never really had before until now.

The beginnings of a friendship.


	2. Chapter 2

“You know, I came up to you that night because I had a feeling you were different.”

“Huh?” Rey asked from where she sat hunched over fixing the sink.

Sitting back she craned her head to look at Finn, who had propped himself up near the window again and asked,

“Different how?

If the words came out testy, she didn’t mind. After all, she spent her whole life trying to prove herself otherwise. Being different wasn’t really a good thing to be in her book. 

He gazed at her warmly, despite her tone, a look that happened more often these days.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Rey. I mean… I mean I felt like if I went up to you, that you’d be able to help me. Like there was… something less uncomfortable about you.”

Rey perked up. “Uncomfortable?”

“Yeah, I always felt kinda weird around the others. Like it wasn’t just the fact that they were criminals that made me uncomfortable, it was something more than that.”

Rey felt glad she stopped working to listen to Finn speak.

Magic always felt a certain way to all non-magical humans and it was fascinating to finally hear someone else talk about it. The pecking order at the orphanage always made sure Rey never got close enough to others like her.

Rey wondered if Finn ever felt _empty_ too, but she bit her tongue before the question slipped out.

Better save it for another time.

Finn gave a short bitter laugh that brought her attention back. “What am I saying? Up until a few nights ago, _I_ was a criminal too and I just didn’t realize that I couldn’t be a part of that life until… well, you know.”

“Yeah, I do.”

A dead friend followed by a rough wake-up call.

Rey remembered the bits and pieces he’d been willing to tell her the day after taking him in.

He had been a grunt, the bottom of the bottom prior to becoming a soldier in the ranks. A job went bad and his only friend was fatally shot. That meant no matter how good of a healer he was, it wasn’t going to matter. Rey had asked for his name and Finn couldn’t tell her.

Grunts didn’t have names until they were promoted.

Then who gave him his, Rey had asked. Finn went quiet first. Then he said it was somebody he met on one of his missions and that it was a story for another time. Either way, the loss of his friend had been the tipping point before he found himself here, sitting in her apartment.

“You don’t get much free time, do you?” Finn had been eyeing the sink. 

Rey nodded. “Not really.”

_Especially not now_ , she thought.

Lately, Plutt had been increasing her workload for no apparent reason. While he always had his reasons for doing so, Rey could not think of a particular instance in the past few months that she’d slighted him in any way. But, then again, did cruel men ever need a reason to be cruel?

“He’s an asshole and all that’s going for him is the fact that he owns this building. Otherwise, he looks like a bumbling glutton.” Finn growled. “His own mother probably can’t bear to look at him. You deserve better, Rey. When all this dies down, let’s get us both outta here. I don’t know where we’ll go, but we’ll figure it out. But that’s…” Finn grinned sheepishly. “That’s only if you want to.”

“I’ll think about it,” Rey replied kindly, though that was all she was willing to say on the matter. Finn had broached a topic that she had long left untouched because her nose had simply been shoved too close to the grindstone to do otherwise. She had spent so long surviving that she just didn’t know where to go that wouldn’t place her back under the same conditions if not worse.

But maybe things would be different now that she had Finn. Maybe they really could work towards a better existence together.

All Rey could do was hope that it would all work out in the end.

* * *

Plutt was overweight and plodding and past his prime.

He had long accepted that he was all of these things.

But he wasn’t stupid.

Nor was he incapable for he could use magic as well as any landlord in New York, honed by years of suspicion and treachery.

It had taken him more than a few days since to confirm, but now there was no doubt left.

Within his building of more than one hundred people, he had at one point or another sensed their presence: coming down the elevator, walking to or past his office, or when he personally evicted debt-ridden tenants. He kept his hearing enhanced throughout the majority of the day and he heard anything from their breathing to their heartbeat to their footsteps.

But for some reason he had always had immense difficulty sensing Rey Smith since she had come to work for him. He would always remember how the skinny, little girl nearly gave him a heart attack as she seemed to just appear in his office out of thin air. And since then she continued making so little noise that he often would not notice her unless he came across her directly. And while he could tell he made her nervous, he could not hear the palpitations for himself.

Now there was no doubt left.

Speed-dialing the number, he brought the cellphone to his ear as the receiving end picked up after the second ring.

“Plutt.” Came the gruff greeting.

“I’m callin’ to discuss payment.” Although he kept his voice level, knowing who he was speaking with, greed pulled back his many jowls into a nasty grin.

“What for?” The voice growled back in a tone Plutt was all too familiar with. These mafioso and their high and mighty attitudes.

“I found your little rat.” He drawled sweetly into the receiver. They had been looking high and low with increasing desperation.

The other end went silent for several beats. And then, “You’ve seen him?”

Plutt almost wanted to scream that the man was fool! He didn’t have to see him to know.

After all, he had heard the clear, steady beating of his heart while Rey Smith had been out running through the impossible list of tasks he made sure to pile on to her these past few days.

“He’ll be ready for pickup in room 918. Jus’ stop by around 9 pm tonight,” Then he added almost as an afterthought. “And tell your sergeant not to worry about casualties. Nothing I can’t help clean up afterwards.”

The voice on the other end grunted noncommittally yet Plutt still felt a rush of self-satisfaction.

They would both get what they wanted.

* * *

“Excuse me.”

Rey said it as apologetically as she could while practically sliding down the steps in her rush, just barely skirting around the dark-haired man that floated past her wordlessly. Ever since she had to start buying enough food for two people and with the recent increase in workload from her boss, Rey had been hard pressed to finish all her errands and still get enough sleep for the night.

As she got further down the steps, she was suddenly struck with a slew of pins and needles along her arms and legs, a sharp difference to what she now understood was how non-magical people reacted to magic. _Odd_ , she thought, _I’ve never felt like this before_. Off kilter, she shook it off and finished the rest of the trip downstairs and hurried over to the trash.

_Do this and then I’m done for the night._ Rey thought eagerly.

Fully loaded in a matter of seconds, Rey shot out towards the dumpster, ready to get this over with. It was in this manner that Rey planned to complete the rest of her trips.

Until she was suddenly struck by a tremor so strong that she nearly tore the plastic on the bags.

“What the hell?” She gasped.

Something was wrong. Something was seriously, seriously wrong.

A roiling suspicion bloomed in her gut as the shudders subsided. For some reason, her mind immediately slipped back to the man on the stairs.

Why hadn’t he taken the _elevator_? Tenants rarely climbed the stairs because magic took effort unless they lived on the second or third floor. And Rey had been coming from the _fifth._

But it was the indoors sunglasses that made everything click in place.

Didn’t Finn say they always traveled in pairs?

Rey threw down the bags and then launched herself back into the building.

Tearing up the stairs in a sprint, her heart hammered against her chest as she hissed, “Finn,” under her breath and prayed he was safe.

Nine floors. She prayed too that her gut was wrong. _Please be wrong._

Because she had no idea what to do if she was right.

* * *

Finn had learned to sleep with one eye open. Or at least as close to sleeping with an eye open as he could. All in all, he had become a light sleeper due to his tenure in a mafia he never wanted to join.

So when the door to Rey’s apartment opened and then closed, Finn was already wide awake. But that was all the heads up he’d get short of Rey’s bedroom door opening up. The soldiers would know to muffle their movements with magic.

But Finn could outsmart them.

He got up as quietly as possible, making sure to keep his breathing and heartbeat even since the soldiers would be keeping tabs on those to ensure he was still sleeping. Then he reached for the baseball bat that Rey had bought for situations just like this.

They would have guns, but only one would be armed while the other would most likely have a wire out for strangling. It was always much cleaner and quieter than a gunshot, even one that was silenced. 

Finn could already picture it in his head. He’d smash the baseball bat down and stun one soldier while he used him as a human shield against the one with the gun. Then he’d beat feet out the door and hit the emergency stairwell.

The door cracked open and a man’s head peered through it.

Finn swung the bat down. Hard.

* * *

Luca stood guard outside the dingy apartment, a smirk spreading across his face as his soldier slipped past the door.

It had been a fluke.

Although there was no explanation for how a grunt had eluded them for so long, longer than any other runaway he’d ever dealt with, the matter would be taken care of. Once their contacts turned something up, the rest had been history. Their target had been fast asleep when they arrived.

The grunt would be put down and then Luca could return to establishing his place as the newest sergeant in their capo’s platoon.

A spike of alarm pierced his mind.

Luca startled out of his reverie and drew his gun. Rosario? He pushed out mentally for a response but none came. He enhanced his hearing and heard two rapid heartbeats, but only one person breathing hard.

That could only mean one thing.

Luca kicked open the door with his gun up and came face to face with a boy holding a bloody bat, Rosario at his feet. For an instant, Luca was struck by just how young the boy was. He couldn’t have been any older than his early twenties. And then the revelation slipped away as fast as it came.

Judging from the blood, it looked like the kid got more than a few hits in and Rosario hadn’t reinforced his skin like he should’ve.

“Hands up, kid. And drop the bat.”

When the boy made no move to do so, he aimed the gun at the space in between his eyes. “Looks like you leave me no choice. We underestimated you but that ain’t happenin’ again.”

He pooled magic into his hand and eyes. “You ain’t got no magic, do ya kid? In that case, there’s no point. I won’t miss.”

He cocked the hammer back.

“Goodbye.” Luca put pressure on the trigger.

“NO!”

Before he could turn his head to see who had screamed, a hand closed down over his wrist and pulled.

The silencer made a sound the equivalent of the slammed car door, but Luca couldn’t hear it, not at all.

“You…” He looked into watery, hazel eyes.

A girl. And she was crying. Why? His mind seemed so hazy all of a sudden. He was having the strangest sensation. His power, his magic was… slipping… somehow. His vision seemed to degrade, his hand lost strength and the gun fell loose on to the floor, and his ears started to fill with a loud rushing.

“What are you doing to me…?” Luca trailed off. He was feeling so weak, so dizzy. So tired.

When the ground rose up to meet him, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. And still his magic continued slipping and slipping. It all seemed to be going towards that firm grip on his wrist.

“You’re a…” Before his eyes closed, Luca had one last distinct feeling.

A deep, deep loneliness that bore down to the soul, a loneliness he might never be able to wake up from.

* * *

Pure power surged through every muscle and Rey nearly swooned from a wave of near euphoria.

She had never felt so alive. So… complete.

The sound of her name broke her out of the reverie. She looked up from where the man lay on the ground, the man who had collapsed after she touched him. Finn’s mouth was moving but a terrible roaring in her own ears drowned him out. His face, Rey suddenly could see every minute expression on his skin from the pinched valley of his brows to the firm clamp of his lips. He was shaken and it was because of her.

The collapsed man began to convulse.

Rey felt as if she were watching the scene from afar with herself, glassy eyed and numb, gazing emptily as legs and arms made dulled, sporadic thuds on the floor. Rey forced her head back to Finn and asked him in sluggish words, _What’s happening?_ She saw him flinch.

The man was foaming at the mouth now and, as his eyes opened reveal an empty, sickening white, Finn reached for a small towel and then shoved it into his mouth. Sinking to his knees, Finn positioned himself beside the man’s chest.

She sank down across from Finn, losing the will to stand.

Finn was trying to save his life.

He proceeded to pump at the man’s chest. He was still flailing, choking but less noticeably. His breathing had slowed and his heart… his heart beat like it was dying or what Rey thought a dying heart should sound like. Yet it beat so loudly she could hear it from here. 

Finn… Finn… Rey tried to work her throat but it felt thick. The scene was starting to blur.

“F… Finn… It’s no use.”

“What do you mean “it’s no use”?” He pumped his hands down harder.

Warmth trailed down her cheeks and Rey realized she was crying. “I don’t know. His heart… he’s going to die soon.”

“How do you know? How-?”

Suddenly the man on the floor gurgled, reminiscent of a fish gasping out of water. His eyes looked normal in that moment, brown eyes gazing desperately at the sky. He wasn’t looking at her, but she felt that gaze regardless like a brand on her skin. Like an accusation.

Then his head thudded back, the gurgling cut off abruptly, and silence filled the room once more.

Rey had seen someone die once.

The memory had been lying in the corners of her mind, far out of reach, as if waiting.

For something to _shatter_ the thick barrier her consciousness had built between the rest of her mind and _that_ _day_ to protect her sanity.

A boy, no older than seventeen.

He had freckles splattered all along the bridge of his nose and eyes that wrinkled into half-moons when he laughed.

She remembered his smile especially.

Because the boy had been smiling when he tried to kill her.

The memory bore down on her like a tremendous wave.

The leaves had just finished falling and the weather was edging into a chilliness where fewer and fewer children played outside.

Rey was on her second foster home, none the worse for wear. At least not yet.

Someone kicked the ball past the fence-line into an alleyway and Rey, the only one brave and agile enough to leap the fence, ran after it.

She really did find the ball in the end.

But _he_ found her first.

Shadowed by high walls and a clouded, grey sky, with the ball tucked just within sight between some trash cans, Rey heard a voice call out, “Hey hey now, looking for something?”

Mild, pleasant, and young, the voice was the epitome of all things kind and welcoming.

However, despite the friendliness in its tone, a faint warning resounded in the back of Rey’s mind as she turned, slowly, towards the speaker.

Warm brown hair and freckles, laughing eyes and lips spread in a gentle grin. He was handsome.

Yet something about him just didn’t _feel_ right.

“What do you want?” Her voice came out clipped and a trifle shaky.

“Don’t be shy. What’s your name?” He hadn’t moved an inch and yet Rey felt like he somehow seemed closer than before.

“R-Rey,” she replied, which just about broke a rule in every book ever written on talking to strangers. “I’m just trying to grab our ball.” She gestured quickly behind her where the ball was still nestled between the trashcans.

“Rey Rey. I like it. Can I call you Rey Rey?”

“Sure,” even though it made her feel very uncomfortable. Like he was.

His smile was a little too wide now. “Well, Rey Rey, why don’t you and I have some fun instead?”

Rey keyed in on the hand behind his back that had been there the whole time.

He was still grinning when the hand moved and a knife appeared.

Suddenly he was just _inches_ away and Rey didn’t even have time to recoil in horror. 

The blade flashed cruel and sharp as a scream rose against her vocal chords just as the knife surged towards her with the promise of a violent death.

“Stop.”

Whisper soft, Rey almost didn’t hear the spoken word, and then the knife was gone.

The last sound the boy made was a sort of startled gasp, like one of utter disbelief.

Then a horrible crunching sound that sounded unbelievably like the sound of cracking eggs but worse, so much worse, came from her right and a vivid wash of red bloomed in her vision, fanning across the cement gray canvas of the alleyway.

Something warm splattered against her cheek.

The world froze before her and all Rey could see was a clenched pale fist where the knife had been. It was clean of any redness and of course there wouldn’t be any red because they punched the boy with the other hand, came the horrifyingly detached line of thought.

Slowly, almost lethargically, her eyes traveled up the pale arm to where it connected with a black shirt sleeve. The cloth was wet, drenched even, but Rey continued gazing past it and upward. Higher and higher, until she was looking into nothing but a deep, deep darkness framed in a landscape of white.

She felt a pressure against the corner of her mouth and then a gentle swipe as it wiped into the warmth that had coated her face just seconds ago.

As Rey blacked out, her last coherent thought would be about the bottomless fear she saw in that darkness.

Someone was shaking her shoulder and Rey came to back in the apartment.

Groggily, like she’d been sleeping, Rey struggled out of her stupor.

_How long was I…?_

The euphoria from before still simmered in her brain, raising the hair on her arms, just under the skin.

“Rey, we have to leave.” Finn was still shaking her, his voice low and urgent.

“But, Finn… he’s dead…” The boy or the man, Rey wasn’t sure anymore, but Finn only knew of the latter.

“I know. I know that. I’m sorry.” It was dark and shadows swathed Finn’s face.

Rey tried to focus, but the world still seemed so hazy, like her brain was swimming on a high it had yet to come down from. Yet she could still see the sincerity in his eyes and that seemed to calm her just a little.

A shaky breath left her throat as her body reminded itself to breathe.

Seeing that man die had caused something horrible to surface from within, the recesses of repressed childhood. Something inside her had also changed. Of both these things, she was certain. The power from when she touched the dead man on the floor while he had been alive still twisted and churned within her.

“What happened?” Her whisper sounded about as bad as the helplessness that flooded through her as she wrenched her eyes back to Finn.

“I don’t know, but we need to leave.”

Rey could tell he wasn’t being completely honest with her and the room went quiet as she wondered what Finn really thought.

He winced.

_Was he hurt?_ Rey worried, but he squeezed her shoulder lightly before she could speak.

“Hold on.”

Then he got up and began making his way around the room, shifting things, using a cloth to grab things. All the while his confidence beat a steady rhythm in his chest as he made it clear that this wasn’t his first time navigating a space filled with bodies.

He placed the cloth down then headed into Rey’s bedroom which was when she finally noticed the second body on the floor, beaten and bloody but still breathing. She could hear his heartbeat too, heavy with unconsciousness. Finn shuffled and rustled around in her room before slipping out with a makeshift rope that he tied in tight looking knots around the unconscious man’s hands and ankles.

“This won’t hold him, but at least it’ll slow him down, especially with the concussion I probably gave him.” After checking over his handiwork, Finn picked up the cloth again and this time he knelt down beside the dead man. And placed the cloth over his face. “Makes him easier to look at.”

They both fell back into an easy silence this time, almost as if holding a vigil.

“You know…” Finn was the first to break it. “I heard your voice in my head earlier.”

“What?” Alarm jolted through her, as well as complete, utter disbelief at his statement. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“Okay,” Finn’s voice was gentle, unaggressive. “So get this, I heard your voice. And it sure as hell wasn’t coming from your mouth. So here’s what I’m thinking,” Leaning in earnestly he clasped both hands on her upper arms in a comforting but firm grip. It steadied her a little inside.

“Rey, I’ve only ever met trained soldiers in the mafia who can do what you just did. You said you were born without magic right? I think that can only mean one thing,” Finn dipped his head to catch her eyes, sincerity unwavering.

“You weren’t born with magic. You were born to eat it.”

Whatever Finn was trying to explain, whatever was going on through his head, at the forefront of everything else going on Rey could hear the wonder in his voice, the awe, as if what he was describing was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. She heard hear the flitter of his heart as it beat excitedly, perhaps from entertaining the knowledge that somehow, some way, Rey was special.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you mean.” But Rey did know. She knew even if her mind hadn’t caught up with the facts because her body knew. A completeness circulated within her like she had been starved her whole life and then ate for the first time in years.

Consumed a person’s life.

As the thought shuttered down her brief, but genuine happiness, Finn spoke, “I think if you wanted to, Rey, you could fly like everybody else.” He let go of her arms. “But not tonight.”

Finn turned and opened the window.

“What are you doing?” Rey asked as he peered down. At what she didn’t know.

“Don’t worry, I’m not jumping if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Finn gave her a smile, wan in the moonlight.

“We’re just making it look like I did. Anyway, it’s just one level away from the roof. There’s another building I could’ve jumped to from there. It’s better to keep them guessing.”

His smile now looked a little sad and Rey wondered why until he spoke again. 

“I can’t put you in any more danger, Rey.”

Comprehension swelled the anxiety that had been rippling inside her all this time, just below the surface. “No… Finn, no.”

Finn continued on as if she hadn’t spoken. “They obviously only came for me tonight and no one else knows exactly what went down except that dead mafioso.”

Rey fought not to flinch at the mention and growing frustration kept her rooted as she gazed back at Finn in defiance.

“Rey…” Her obvious rejection made him sigh. “Please I need you to understand.”

“No, I need _you_ to understand.” Finn’s eyes widened as Rey’s tone almost took herself by surprise. “Someone ratted you out. I’m almost sure of it. He’s been acting suspicious all week! And you know exactly who I’m talking about.” As she flung accusations, everything started to fall in place. All the extra work, all the knowing looks like he knew something she didn’t, it all made sense.

Realization followed quickly by fury blazed across Finn’s face. “That motherfu-”

“They’ll interrogate me,” Rey spat bitterly. Finn visibly flinched at that and she wondered if that was because he had probably seen actual interrogations. “You know they will, especially since Plutt really was on their payroll I guess. Ever wonder why those guys showed up during my busiest time of night?”

“Should’ve known things were a little too quiet.” Finn covered his face and groaned past his fingers. “Well there goes my master plan.”

“No, I say we stick to the plan.”

“Seriously?” If Finn hadn’t looked at like she’d grown two heads, Rey would’ve thought her idea made complete sense.

“We stick to the plan,” Rey said again in opposition to his doubt, as if to cement the idea between the two of them. Her voice and hands shook, but a natural grit kept her legs steady and back straight. “Make them think we went out the window. Just give me time to get a bag together so we can get going.”

Rey held Finn’s eyes as long as she could. “ _Please_.”

Finn was silent, thinking.

She waited and, as the seconds trickled by, Rey imagined that packing to escape could almost be like moving between foster homes. She’d throw all her clothes into a trash bag, grab her wallet, make sure to pack a pair of flip flops, and this time the privilege to empty out as much of the fridge and cupboards as needed.

He still wouldn’t speak.

“Please,” She said again, stepping closer. “Let’s do this together. We’re both in danger whether I stay or leave but if we do the second option then I might actually live another week seeing how _ruthless_ these people are.”

Then Rey swallowed hard and pointed at the dead man on the ground. “He was going to shoot you. And I stopped him.”

“Rey.”

“I can stop more of them, whatever it takes.”

“ _Rey._ ”

“Like you said, I can use magic now, eat it, I don’t know, but that means I can at least fend for myself, even protect both of us, I can-!”

“ _REY!_ ” Finn yelled or, more appropriately, hissed as loudly as he could without making a commotion. Then his hands were at her arms again only this time he slid them up and down as if soothing a cornered animal.

“Rey, it’s okay. Things are going to be okay. And you’ve made your point. Let’s get out of here. Together.” He tilted his head at her as if ask, _Okay_?

“Okay.” Rey felt herself nearly sag with relief.

Finn opened his mouth to say something else but didn’t get the chance.

Light flooded the room as the door slipped open with hardly a sound and Finn’s open mouth turned into a gape as both their heads whipped to the figure standing in the entryway.

“And what do we have here?” The voice came in a steady, almost _playful_ tone.

Round, luminous glasses reflected the light as a wizened old woman with short, straw-dyed hair gazed upon them with an amused expression alien to a very familiar face.

“Getting out of here, you said? I think I can help with that.”

Rey’s throat worked until she finally found her voice, which uttered in incredible disbelief,

“ _Anna_?”

* * *

Flames blazed in the fireplace mirroring the one back in her headquarters in midtown Manhattan though there was nothing comforting or familiar about them.

“A heart attack?” The voice rumbled in the air between them.

_A heart attack_? The question also slid right into her unshielded mind, a courtesy _all_ had to allow for the man sitting before her.

Although Phasma kept her gaze respectfully on the desk in front of him, she saw the tilt of his head, the beady dull-grey eyes trained on her form. “Yes, sir, as reported by the coroner.”

“I see…” A pause as the man before her took a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, the smoke curling around her blonde locks. Any other man and disgust would’ve curled her lip. “So a magicless grunt took down a trained soldier and one of your sergeants conveniently died of a heart attack? I don’t have time for fairy tales, Phasma.” 

From the corner of her eye, the insufferable red-headed man beside him shifted, his disapproval permeating the air around him, undercut by a familiar current of interest only she would sense. Not tonight, Phasma thought.

Despite the goading she was forced to endure, the situation was special or she wouldn’t be here. As with every _special_ situation, there would be additional _assets_ available at her disposal, to use as she saw fit, anything she deemed necessary to dispatch the target.

Hatred flared in the pit of her stomach for the first time in a long while at the thought of the grunt. How long has it been since she was embarrassed like this? _How long?_

“This is no fairy tale. I will take care of the matter _personally_ , sir.” Her hands, surreptitiously clasped behind her back, shook with the force of her anger.

“And this time, he won’t escape.”


End file.
